She looks at me and then glances away. “Not exactly. From what I understand, it’s more like … possession. The Corrupter expands within the person, alongside their consciousness, sharing their body.”

My stomach rolls and vaults upward, and the only reason I don’t puke is because of a lump in my throat the size of a decorative gourd. My worst fear has gone from “grandma’s rag doll” to “being spiritually double-penetrated by an ancient ghost” in the space of two days. Hoarsely, I manage, “And then what?”

“Well, that’s just it—nobody knows.” Daphne shrugs helplessly. “Even when it Rises, the Corrupter is confined by the body it inhabits; it’s an awakening rather than a transformation. With vampirism, bodies stop aging, they do things that defy human physiology, and they can’t be killed except by several very specific means.” She shuffles her feet. “If the old records are to be believed, the vessel’s mortality is what has ultimately prevented the Corrupter from wreaking total havoc. That contains it, limits its powers, and leaves it vulnerable to all the same things that kill humans. Age, disease, starvation—”

“Executions,” I croak out, gagging on the memory of smoke in my lungs. “So that’s what the Ascension is? Escaping mortality?”

“Again, according to a lot of sketchy writings from thousands of years ago,” Daphne begins, miserable, “the Ascension is when the Corrupter exceeds the vessel—possibly meaning that it jumps free, but … most likely meaning that it jailbreaks the body altogether from the hold of mortality.”

“So a transformation after all. A takeover,” I interpret in a stricken tone, feeling hollow inside. It’s ironic, I guess, given that my body has apparently never been more full. “Best-case scenario is this thing will pop out of me like a stripper from a birthday cake, and worst-case is that … one day I’m just going to Turn into Vampire Santa Claus.” Stomach roiling, my mouth dry, I ask, “How am I supposed to bring day-walking and true immortality to all the good little vampires, anyway?”

“That’s another thing that’s missing from the prophecies.” She shakes her head. “The most popular theories are that it’s either bestowed through touch—some sort of vampiric benediction—or else … that the vessel’s blood becomes charged with magic, and by sharing it, the Corrupter can imbue the undead with its gifts.”

My face is stiff with cold, my hands hurt, and my toes have no sensation at all anymore; but every part still feels like me—like my body. Is this real? Is there something inside me right now, getting stronger all the time? My throat closes as I whisper, “Why me?”